


you're everything a big bad wolf could want

by aquaexplicit



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Big Bad Wolf!Harry, Cisco Has No Sense of Self Preservation, Dark, Harriscofest, Harry Doesn't Know If He Wants To Eat Cisco Or Eat Cisco Ya Know, Little Red Riding Hood!Cisco, M/M, Sexual Violence, Violence, fantasies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-13 13:33:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11760948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquaexplicit/pseuds/aquaexplicit
Summary: “Say Harry again,” Harrison dares him, voice dripping death. “And I’ll tear out your throat with my teeth.”“Kinky,” Cisco says, wriggling his eyebrows. “Just so you know, my safe word is cinnamon and I’ve never had to use it.”





	you're everything a big bad wolf could want

There’s a man who walks through Harrison’s woods.

Sometimes he brings others with him: a man who has his nose but not his heart; a woman who wears supple leather and pinches his ribs; a couple who laugh and share longing looks that Harrison didn’t know even after years of marriage. He makes them all smile. They call him Cisco.

Most of the time, he’s alone. Harrison prefers it when he’s alone.

He wears a hoodie that looks a size too big, sleeves hanging just above his finger tips. It’s red. Harrison knows he thinks he’s being cute.

He’s heard the man speak about the big bad wolf who supposedly roams this part of the woods, devouring stray animals and humans that have the misfortune of crossing his path. The man laughs about this. Carries his phone in his hand in case he comes across the creature so he can get a seflie. Also, Harrison doesn’t know what a cryptid is, but apparently the man thinks of him as one. It would, apparently, be _dope_ to see him.

Not many people come to the acres Harrison has claimed for himself. Not many people come to the woods, period, which is why Harrison is here. There are wolves who live always in their cheap skin, digging their covered claws into a facade of humanity, living among the hordes because they can’t let go of the lives they lost when they turned. Harrison had already lost most of what he’d built - his wife, his company, his daughter’s love. It was almost a blessing to have the burden of living ripped away from him.

Tonight the moon is low and lush, blooming fresh behind the curls of the man’s head. He’s by himself. His fingers are digging through the damp dirt, unearthing the lavender that grows in clusters. The sharp scent of science is around him, mingling with the oil and spices that cling to his hands. Harrison figures him for an engineer or lab tech of some kind. He doesn’t know what the man’s obsession with the flowers that grow here is, though, but he has a few theories.

The man’s never come alone on a full moon before.

Harrison’s canines unsheathe as he watches the man work, listens to the low lullaby of his hums and the gentle beat of his heart. It’s been a very, very long time since Harrison has had human flesh between his teeth. He’s tried so hard to avoid the siren song of blood spiked with humanity, glutting himself instead on smaller, less dangerous prey. He eats his fill of forest animals and those that wander past his den.

This man tests wildly his resolve.

Everything about him sings out to be devoured and Harrison can’t sort out blood lust from flesh lust anymore. There is softness all around him; gauzy and glossy and lovely. The way his mouth parts on heavy pants and smiles, the way his hair shines in the silver of the moon or gold of the sun, the flashes of skin that tease Harrison’s hunger. Harrison wants to pin him under claws or fists, press him into the black of the earth, and eat him him up. Unhinge his own jaw and devour the man whole. Or piece by piece, slowly, so he can hear the man beg - for mercy, for more.

Perhaps Harrison has been alone too long.

The indulgence of watching the man needs to come to an end. Harrison has started dreaming of the way his bones would feel grinding underneath Harrison’s own. He has started spending the days the man doesn’t come to the woods with his ears flat against his head and irritation crawling over his spine. An attachment has formed without him realizing; it’s sick and distant but it’s there. Harrison hates it.

If the man wants proof of his existence, Harrison will give it to him. He will sate his need to touch the man - not bite him, not turn him, Harrison will not inflict this on someone else - and terrify him so deeply he will never set foot in the woods again.

The man pushes onto his knees, spine curved, red hoodie shifting to flash the small of his back. It’s a position of submission, beautiful. A growl rumbles in Harrison’s chest, the instinct of a predator, of a creature of desire, and he doesn’t attempt to swallow it down. The sound echoes darkly, spooking birds out of their trees and causing insects to scurry across the ground.

The man glances up. His heartbeat speeds - like a deer, tender and fast. His nostrils flare and his mouth opens. He’s afraid. It only makes Harrison want to lick his blood off his own teeth more.

“Hello?” the man says, voice trembling but not nearly enough to sate Harrison. “Cindy, is that you? I told you coming out here and playing wolf calls would not be funny. I’m not laughing.”

Harrison growls again. Instead of spiking the man’s fear, however, the man rolls his eyes. He goes back to his dirt.

Harrison has never liked being ignored.

He stalks forward. The plan is simple: he’s going to pin the man to the tree, rake his claws through that god damn red hoodie, tear it to shreds the way he wants to tear the man’s throat, scare him until he cries, then send him on his way.

It takes longer than Harrison’s patience can stand for the man to notice Harrison has entered the clearing. As a wolf, he stands only a quarter less than he does as a man. His fur is black. The few other wolves he’s met have said he looks like something out of a fable. They invited him to stay with them in their makeshift families, hunt and live together. Harrison has turned them down enough that they don’t bother him anymore.

The man is still humming to himself. Harrison resists the urge to huff or claw at the ground. Instead he releases another rumbling growl.

The man doesn’t look up. “Cindy, girl, you’re good at so many things. Leave the practical jokes to me and Barry.”

Harrison _snarls._

That snaps the man’s attention. He finally turns his neck - lovely and soft, Harrison wants to taste it with his tongue and his teeth. When he makes out Harrison’s shape in the light, his eyes widen and he falls flat on his ass.

That’s more like it, Harrison thinks, and moves forward.

“Holy shit,” the man breathes, sounding more awed than horrified. Fear spikes the pounding of his heart, but there’s something else, deeper and darker and more primal. It confuses Harrison even as it draws him forward. “Holy mother fucking shit. You’re - you’re the wolf.”

Harrison halts about four feet from the man’s fallen form. He lifts his head so his bared teeth will glint murder sharp in the moonlight. The man moves but instead of scrambling backwards he gets his arms out in front of him so he can sway forward.

“Woah.”

Perhaps the man can’t really see him. Can’t tell how large he is, how his body is built to tear him into pieces. Harrison stalks forward, allowing every hungry, bloodthirsty thought he’s had to surge to the surface and lead him. He wills the man to read the death corded into every muscle of his body.

The man must not be able to read. He climbs to his feet and moves forward. There’s caution in his steps but not enough caution considering he is approaching a giant wolf that is salivating for his flesh.

“Are you friendly, boy?” the man asks softly. He puts his hands out in front of him, holding them so Harrison can see the callouses on his fingertips. “Good monster wolf. Good cryptid.”

When the man reaches for his ears, Harrison’s fury explodes.

He snaps at the fingers. The man pulls his hand back to his chest, looking more offended and _sad_ than terrified. What is wrong with this guy?

“That was hurtful.” The man’s lush mouth falls into a pout. It’s full and plump  and Harrison wants to lick at the petal pink until he bleeds.

Harrison growls until he shakes himself out of his stupor. He has a plan and he will stick to the plan. This is the last night this man will ever come into his woods.

He lowers his head and runs forward, head butting the man into the tree. The man grunts in pain as Harrison’s forehead makes contact with his soft belly. Harrison pushes himself up on his back legs, using his paws to anchor the man into the bark. The smell of blood rushing spills messily into Harrison’s nose. He hasn’t broken any skin, but the tree bark rough against the man’s back and the tips of his claws sinking through fabric is already coaxing bruises to the surface.

“You’re just excitable, aren’t you buddy?” The man laughs like Harrison’s a damn dog that’s jumped up because it misses its owner. “I knew you were real. Iris is gonna be so pissed I saw you and she didn’t. Do you think you can stand still for a picture?”

Harrison is going to rip his throat out. He opens his jaw and is a bite away from lunging forward before the man fishes his phone out of his pocket. Furious, Harrison raises a paw to slap it out of his hand.

“Hey, that’s a new iPhone. I didn’t get a protection plan on that.”

It seems like the only way Harrison is going to get the man out of his forest is by killing him. Harrison doesn’t not want to kill him, but he doesn’t want to kill him. He just wants the man gone.

Surely there’s something Harrison can do to scare him.

If he can’t do it as the wolf, perhaps he can do it as the man.

Harrison howls as his bones crunch and shift. The transformation is always painful, humiliating and torturous. He prefers to remain the wolf but it’s becoming obvious that only Harrison’s human skin can solve this.

The man watches in fascination as Harrison changes. All the horror that had been pumping his blood wild and fresh has dulled.

As soon as Harrison feels his flesh stretch over his bones, he snaps back onto the man. His nails aren’t as sharp as his claws but they’re long and pierced enough that they sink easily into the man’s soft flesh. He wraps his hand around the man’s throat, gets his naked knee against the man’s jean wrapped thighs - he can feel the warmth of the man’s skin, the way the flesh gives like it was made to yield to Harrison’s violence. Blood and heat pool in Harrison’s gut. He wants - he wants, and it’s all he can taste.

“Holy transformation Batman,” the man says. His throat and pulse flutter against Harrison’s fingers. Oh. That’s a lovely sensation. Harrison’s teeth ache. “You’re a dude, dude!”

“Get out,” Harrison growls. It feels strange to use his vocal chords, to speak this clunky foreign language instead of the sounds of the earth.

The man blinks. “Can you go a little easier on the merchandise? This is my only red hoodie and it’s kind of my _thing,_  y’know, so - ”

Harrison gets his nails into the man’s hoodie and shreds it to ribbons. The fabric flows like blood.

Finally, the man screams. It’s more indignant than scared. He holds the tattered remains of his hoodie in his hands. His fingers and his lips tremble.

“What the hell, man?”

“Get out,” Harrison repeats. He surges forward again, devouring the small distance he placed between them to tear up the hoodie. “Get out of my woods. Come back and next time, that hoodie will be your guts.”

The man’s eyes widen. Harrison realizes that, in his rush to get his hands wrapped back around that pretty, gentle throat, he’s wedged his naked thigh between the man’s. The thrill of violence and fear and the man’s distress has pooled blood in his dick, which is now pressed insistent in the soft flesh of the man’s belly.

And he’s not the only one who’s hard.

Harrison looks down between their bodies, pressed flush and fully wanton against each other. He brings his gaze back to the man’s face. The man won’t meet his eyes.

“Don’t judge me, okay? It’s been a while. I haven’t even gotten past kissing with my last three lady friends and you’re - threatening, yes, but also the hottest person who’s been naked around me in the past year.”

Harrison curls his other hand around the man’s hip, thumbnail sinking into the v of the man’s soft flesh. Both of them twitch at the sensation.

“Are you - are you seriously getting off on this?” Harrison breathes.

“You are too,” the man huffs. His own hands come up to Harrison’s chest. He makes no move to push Harrison away.

“I’m a werewolf,” Harrison offers as explanation. “What’s your excuse?”

“I get boners for danger. Sue me.” The man licks his lips. Harrison follows the movement. The man shifts against him and Harrison can’t stop the groan that falls ragged from his mouth. “I don’t usually hook up with cryptids I just met, but I won’t tell the other werewolves you’re easy if you don’t tell the other humans.”

Harrison can only blink at him. This approach isn’t working at running him out of Harrison’s forest, either. Harrison hadn’t been prepared with a Plan C. Trying to think of one now, with the man’s panting and blood screaming for Harrison to get his jaw around it, is difficult.

The man’s hands come up, ginger and cautious, to pet Harrison’s neck. Then they’re kissing.

Harrison hasn’t kissed anyone in years. He’s forgotten what it feels like.

Warm. Soft. It’s like flesh open and pressed hot to his mouth. Perfect and painful and not enough, not nearly enough. Harrison bites at the man’s lips. Instead of flinching or whimpering or pulling away, the man just moans and gets his own teeth into Harrison.

Suddenly there are different scents - some new, some familiar. Harrison hears the man’s name echoing through the forest.

“Shit,” the man says. “The squad. I told them I wanted to be alone tonight but - ”

Another call. Harrison recognizes the one the man calls Cindy. He thinks Barry, as well. He isn’t sure of the rest of their names.

“Can we take a rain check?”

Harrison is too stunned to do much of anything when the man finally, gently, pushes him away.

“I’m gonna go meet them. Unless you want to reveal yourself to humanity tonight?”

“No,” Harrison bites. There’s a pain in his stomach and his dick. His nails throb with the ache of being out of the man’s skin. “You can’t - ” he starts, instincts screaming to drag the man back to his den and keep him forever.

“I’ll be back. Promise. I hate to be a tease.” Another call of his name. The man shrugs, apologetic. “I’m Cisco, by the way. As you can probably hear. What’s your name?”

Harrison glares, unprepared to give up the talisman of his name or the man - Cisco - himself. He wonders if he has time to turn and grip the nape of Cisco’s neck between his jaw, drag him back to the cave, before the other human’s catch his scent or their trail.

“Come on. Please tell me? I need to know what to scream out when I come see you tomorrow night.”

The grin Cisco offers is as dazzling as it is obscene, going straight to Harrison’s lust. He answers before thinking about the kind of power he’s offering the human that he meant to run out of his woods.

“Harrison.”

The man _laughs_. It’s rippling and gentle, clear like the brook by Harrison’s den.

“I’m sorry. That’s just - that’s kind of amazing. Your name is Harry and you’re a werewolf. You’re Harry the very hairy werewolf. That’s the best thing I’ve ever heard.”

“It’s Harrison,” he corrects.

Cisco is still laughing. “When you came out earlier, looking like the big bad wolf, I thought I’d gotten myself into a pretty _hairy_ situation.”

“Say Harry again,” Harrison dares him, voice dripping death. “And I’ll tear out your throat with my teeth.”

“Kinky,” Cisco says, wriggling his eyebrows. “Just so you know, my safe word is cinnamon and I’ve never had to use it.”

The voices get closer. Harrison growls in frustration, in fury. Cisco bops forward and steals a kiss from Harrison’s pressed thin mouth.

“See you around, Harry.”

With that, Cisco turns, calling out to his friends. He blows Harrison a kiss and throws out a wink before running out to meet them.

Harrison stares at the tree where he’d had his prey, pinned and wriggling. He looks at the human hands that let Cisco slip away. He growls.

It’s always easier to slip back into the wolf. Harrison runs, bare feet catching leaves and sharp rocks and twigs, barely noticing the discomfort as his skin sheds back into fur and his body shifts back into nature’s deadly machine. The predator and the planner in him merge violently back together. It’s been a long time since they have shared a common goal and it’s never been anything as thrilling as Cisco.

Harrison reaches his cave. He wants to run more, catch something not for food but for the heat of the chase and capture, snap or sunder or tear something until it bleeds and gives. Instead, he crouches. He waits. He schemes.

If Cisco will be back tomorrow, Harrison will be prepared.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a fill for heckyeahharrico's harriscofest prompt: big bad wolf/little red riding hood. i hope it's something along the lines of what the op was looking for!
> 
> shoutout to darknessandterrorandkitness for approving this idea and encouraging me to do the thing!


End file.
